Little Bad
by Bloody Rot
Summary: [COMPLETE] Spike has a problem. A problem that turns him into a problem. A very little problem. Godspeed, Angel...godspeed. (a valiant return after being taken down...rarararar. I really don't see how this should be rated R.)
1. No Sense In Crying Over Spilled Milk

**Author's Notes: **Um...this is completely AU. I wouldn't even know where to begin to describe where it fits into the series. I just really wanted to see how Spike would deal with being in a 4-year-old's body with a 4-year-old's mentality...and what that would do to poor Angel. Read and Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **NOT MINE.****

**Little Bad**

_Chapter One - Spilled Milk_

"Soddin' milk."

It had slipped from his hand too quickly to save - and if it was too fast for vampire reflexes, you knew that was one soddin' fast container of milk.

"Bloody hell."

It was like a bloody white flood, moving in all directions and spreading its milky goodness like some common male street wench.

Christ, what did a bloke have to do to make a bloodshake around here? He favored the cardboard carton of vanilla ice cream and half pint of pigs blood with a lascivious gaze. It had been such a brilliant idea...

The bleached blond vampire lifted up his foot and sneered in distaste, watching the white substance drip to the floor. Bleedin' milk.

"S'pose I should clean this mess up."

Towel...where was a towel? Stupid Angel. Milk and ice cream and even pigs blood, but a towel? No. Of course there was no bloody towel in the dumbarsed Peaches's kitchen. Towels were bloody well important and Nancyboy'd do well to remember that in times of crisis.

Milk was starting to smell bad, after all. What were they going to do when the shite curdled on the kitchen floor? What then? Well, there was thing that this vampire was sure of: it wasn't the Big Bad's duty to save the world...

"Bleedin' Poof!" He emphasized the snarl by kicking the kitchen cabinets. He found that the milk didn't like that very much, as he felt himself slipping and falling to the hard tile, knocking his platinum-blond head on the counter on the way down.

* * *

Angel was very good at brooding. Nobody could quite master the art of the brood as well as Angel did. Angel might as well have INVENTED the brood.

However, it was difficult to brood when his overly-sensitive ears caught onto his wayward childe cursing and banging around in his kitchen. The colorful swears emanating from Spike's mouth kept the ensouled vampire thoroughly entertained. The last bang was the loudest...and the silence afterwards filled Angel with a sense of dread.

"Spike?"

Angel tread softly out of the room, making little to no noise on his way to the kitchen. The first thing he saw was the ice cream on the counter, sidled alongside the pint of blood. Then his eyes moved downwards, toward the floor and the spilled milk and the...really small child?

The little unconscious face was baby soft and innocent, eyes shut and covered with a mop of blonde hair. So small and devoid of evil...and yet it was undoubtably Spike. Angel knew the scent of his childe and this kid reeked of Spike.

"Spike?" he whispered, kneeling beside the boy and gently taking the limp form into his arms. The blue eyes popped open and the small body noticeably tensed...but when mini-Spike's face focused on Angel's concerned brown eyes, he relaxed immediately.

"Angel?" he mumbled sleepily. "What's goin' on?" He curled into his sire's chest and closed his eyes again. "Spilled the bloody milk. Couldn't find a soddin' towel. Slipped..."

"Spike...you need to listen to me right now."

"Spike's sleepy, Sire. Listen to you later. Naptime now."

"You're really small," Angel tried again.

"Who're you callin' small, you bleedin' poof?" the little boy demanded.

"Listen to yourself talk, Spike..."

"I am aware of what I sound like, An-" the boy's eyes widened again. "What in the bleedin'...FUCK. BOLLOCKS." He roughly pushed his sire away and scrambled to his feet, measuring his full height to that of his sire's sitting position and finding that he barely reached Angel's forehead. He started to panic. "What's going on, Angelus?" He started to hyperventilate. "Why am I...what am I..."

Tears sprung to his eyes as he looked narrowly down at the spilled milk.

"This is all YOUR fault!" he declared, pointing an accusing finger at the half-soaked in liquid and stomping his foot for emphasis. "Bleedin' Hell! I'm the Big Bad! I'm the Big Bad, I say! What say you? I'll rip off your soddin' bollocks and then see how you like bein' three bloody inches tall. Fucking milk!"

Angel watched with interest as Spike jump up and down in an attempt to defeat the evil milk. When he saw the boy lose his balance, he snatched out his arms and caught him before he hit the floor again.

"Spike," he attempted.

"BLOODY SODDIN' CUNT, I'M GOING TO RIP THE FUCKING UDDERS OFF THE COW WHO SPAWNED THAT EVIL FILTH..."

"Spike, calm down," the older vampire tried to soothe his childe, but to no avail.

"THEN I'LL DO THE OL' SLICE AND DICE ON THAT HERBIVOROUS BINT AND INJECT THE BITCH'S MEAT WITH SOME FATAL DISEASE SO ANY WANKER THAT THINKS OF HAVIN' A TASTE WILL DIE A HORRIBLE AND AMUSING DEATH..."

"Spike!"

"I'm too soddin' small, Sire!" Spike wailed. "I'm like four bleedin' years old! I want to be big again! Big and bad! I wanna be the big bad!" With that he pulled away from the dark vampire, and tumbled to the floor screaming in outrage at the injustice of his situation, banging his little fists against the milky tile.

For the first minutes, Angel simply stared in awe. It was one mighty temper tantrum, after all. Then he noticed that Spike's little fists had taken on a red, raw appearance as if the skin were on the verge of breaking.

"Stop it, Spike," he said, attempting to pick the boy up from the floor only to be struck by a strong foot. Well...the kid still had his vampire strength. That was for sure. "You're hurting yourself." Spike screamed all the louder and lashed out all the more painfully. "WILLIAM, stop that this instant!"

Silence.

Spike stared at his sire, sniveling and wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

"We're going to figure it out," Angel promised, laying a hand on the boy's back. "We'll figure this out." He was more than a little surprised when his childe crawled on his lap and nestled in his arms, crying softly into his chest. "We'll figure this out," he repeated.

"We'll figure this out," Spike cried softly. "Bloody well figure this out. Too lil' to be the Big Bad. Too lil' to be anythin'." He sat up and wrapped his little arms around his sire's neck, burying his face into the dark vampire's neck.

"Lets put you to bed, hmm?" Angel spoke into the soft blond hair after a few moments. "Maybe you'll feel better after some sleep." Spike sniffled into his shoulder and shook his small head.

"Don't wanna go to sleep. Wanna drink a bloodshake and watch telly," he whimpered pathetically, pulling away from his sire and grasping Angel's face in his small, cold hands.

"I'm still dead. I'm still a vampire. How am I gonna grow?" he asked, pleading blue eyes boring into Angel's deep brown ones. "I'm gonna be stuck.-" he choked on a fresh sob. "...like this forever." After detaching himself from his sire, he continued in a soft voice, "They say that milk's s'posed to make you all big and strong." He sucked in a breath, inclined his head to the side and screamed, "DO I LOOK BLOODY BIG AND STRONG TO YOU?" He cracked a cabinet door with a strong, angry kick and began to wail at the top of his lungs.

"Wha...?" Cordelia Chase stopped dead in her tracks at the threshold of the kitchen. "Angel...?" Realizing that the mighty cry of the little boy dramatically outweighed her own voice, she yelled, "Did you know that there was a really small kid screaming in a puddle of milk in your kitchen?"

Angel rewarded her with a very tired look before slumping against the cabinets and settled for watching the kid wail. Sensing a massive brood coming on, Cordelia felt it within her line of duty to join her fanged friend.

"It's Spike," he told her.

"Spike made the kid cry? Did you stake him?"

"No. It's Spike," Angel groaned, pointing to the small child. "Something's dark here. Dark and amiss."

"Grave danger?" Cordelia sighed.

"Yeah...a four-year-old vampire prone to large temper tantrums." He looked into her widened eyes with a carefully calculated look of dread and grim amusement, "I think we'd better pray for our lives."

TBC...


	2. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

**Author's Notes:** I realize that this is completely out of whack. I'll repeat that it's not based in any particular season and I'll most likely just use the characters as I want to use them and not put them in according to the series timeline. Haha. It's a pretty awful story anyway. I just wanted to write something. Enjoy.

**Little Bad **

**Chapter Two – Twinkle Twinkle Little Star**

* * *

"Bedtime."

Angel's voice was low and laced with a fierce determination. In his 240 some years of existing, the vampire had met few that dared to challenge this tone. One of those few went by the name of Spike.

"NO."

The shrunken vampire in question pouted and stamped his foot in defiance. His pale upper lip was streaked with blood in a fashion craze known as the "bloodstache"…okay, so it wasn't really a fashion craze. It was just a craze. A craze of blood-drinking goodness.

"It's DAWN, Spike. We're nocturnal. Dawn is synonymous with bedtime."

Spike yawned, favoring his grandsire with a thoughtful look. "What's in it for me?"

Angel gaped at him. "You get to SLEEP. You LOVE to sleep, remember?"

Spike shrugged and rubbed his tired eyes with two little hands. " Its more fun to watch you suffer, Sire."

"At the expense of your own comfort?" Angel asked pointedly, taking in his childe's drooping eyelids.

"Sod off."

"Don't you take that tone with ME, young man."

"How bleedin' hilarious of you, Angel." The little vampire struggled to contain another particularly large yawn, but failed miserably. "Bloody Hell." He extended his arms out to the larger vampire.

Angel blinked.

Spike blinked back, making grabbing motions with his hands.

"Okay, I give. What's going on?"

"Carry me, you soddin' wanker. I'm bloody well too tired to walk and if I'm going to be three bleedin' inches tall, you can at least attend to your fatherly sire duties and carry me to my bed."

Angel raised an eyebrow.

Spike stomped his foot in impatience, balling his little hands into little fists. "Well?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Oh. How thoughtless of me. Carry me to my bed, NANCYBOY."

Angel decided to kill the cow himself.

* * *

"Well, he's acting normal. Like himself. Same vocabulary, same attitude…same Spike." Angel stopped pacing to look up at his colleagues. "Although there were those temper tantrums earlier…those were massive and rather odd. And he cried like I've never seen him cry before."

"So…our only suspect of magical misdeed is a substance you refer to as evil milk?" Wesley asked doubtfully.

The vampire nodded his head vigorously. "It's all that milk's fault. If you'll look in the direction of Cordelia, you will see Exhibit A." Cordelia smiled brightly and held up a small beaker containing an even smaller amount of milk. "This is the milk in question, gathered from the kitchen floor approximately 20 minutes after I discovered Exhibit B unconscious and fun-sized."

"I think you're taking the title of private investigator WAY too seriously, Exhibit-I'm-A-Private-Investigator-Listen-To-Me-Call-Things-Exhibits," Cordelia interjected.

"So where is Exhibit B now?" Fred inquired curiously.

"Sleeping. I put him to bed a few hours ago."

"And he wasn't acting childish in the least?"

A scream cut off Angel's answer and the three of them stared open-mouthed as the miniature-Spike dashed into the room and grabbed his grandsire's leg, hugging it tightly to his little body.

"Spike?"

"Green," Spike whimpered, into the older vampire's pant leg. "Green sing."

"Green sing?" Wesley echoed.

"Spike?" Angel asked again, gently prying the little boy from his leg and lifting him into his arms. "What's wrong?"

Little Spike latched onto Angel's neck, terrified. "Don't let 'em get me, Da."

Da? He's calling me Da? What the- 

The sound of a throat clearing brought Angel out of his thoughts and the four turned to see their good buddy Lorne standing in the doorway. Spike let out a fretful whimper and wrapped his little legs around Angel's torso.

"I scared the little sweet pea," the demon admitted. "He looked so peaceful in his bed and I started singing _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_-" Spike began to sob into Angel's shoulder. "…and he just screamed and ran as if it was the scariest thing he'd ever heard."

"Spike, Lorne's our friend." Angel tried.

"Bloody twinkling stars," Spike muttered, so traumatized that he was trembling.

"Spike-"

"You never know what they're up to, you know," Spike cut him off, laying his little head on his grandsire's shoulder. "They twinkle this way an' that, but you never REALLY know."

"Well, gee…what's YOUR childhood trauma?" Cordelia wondered aloud.

"Maybe we should put you back to bed." Angel suggested.

"No. Don't wanna go back bed," the little vampire protested. "Wanna stay with you."

The five "adults" stood in a rather stunned silence at Spike's heartwarming proclamation, exchanging dumbfounded expressions.

"Spike, how are you feeling?" Wesley asked with a kind of forced kindness to his tone. Wide blue eyes were raised to acknowledge him, but after meeting the former Watcher's gaze, Spike ducked his face back into his grandsire's shoulder, shaking his head.

"Aren't you going to answer Wesley?" Angel asked softly.

"No."

"Why not?"

Spike remained silent.

"OH! I know!" Cordelia exclaimed, hit by a sudden revelation. "Does he resemble a twinkling star?"

Angel wrapped his arms more securely around his childe when he felt the shaking start up, glaring at Cordelia for her insensitivity.

"What's the matter, Will?" Angel murmured into the soft hair. "Tell Sire what's wrong."

"Can't 'member," Spike whispered. "Can't 'member what to think."

"You can't remember what to think?" Angel asked, puzzled. Spike shook his head. "Wanna go back to bed?" Another shake of the head. "Are you positive?" Nod. "Hungry?"

"Yeah."

"How about some warm milk?" Fred offered. "Always used to put me to sleep when I was-"

"No milk!" Spike cried.

"Oh," the Texan girl smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I forgot that the milk was the source of evil."

"Yeah…what's with that anyway?" Cordelia asked.

"Milk?" Lorne said suddenly. "Who went out and bought milk?"

Angel shrugged. "It was in the refrigerator. Spike was making some sort of milkshake involving blood. Called it a bloodshake." He grinned and fondly patted his childe's back. "Imaginative little sport, eh?"

"By milk do you mean the white substance in the refrigerator in the container clearly marked 'NOT MILK'?"

Spike looked up from Angel's shoulder.

"Uh oh."

* * *

**TBC….**


	3. Idle Threats

**Author's Notes: **You guys are rocking it with the reviews =) I 3 you.****

_Little Bad_

**_Chapter Three – Idle Threats_**

* * *

Charles Gunn heaved a sigh of annoyance. He had been gone for one day. ONE DAY. But once he returned the NEXT day there had been an irritating little surprise waiting for him. A three-foot tall, blue-eyed, blond-haired irritating surprise who drank blood and screamed for fun.

"Yo, Fang Jr.!"

Spike set the fragile glass orb of mystical power back on Angel's desk, aiming an innocent smile at Gunn.

"Yes, good sir?"

"Keep your hands off the breakables, kid."

Babysitting. Charles Gunn, the brute strength of the team, had landed the job of babysitting the littlest vampire in history. They would pay for this. He slouched further in his chair and watched as Spike chewed on a fountain pen.

"It's gonna rupture," he told the child. "You're gonna have ink all over your face and it's gonna be gross."

"Says you," Little Spike growled.

"Says me," Gunn nodded.

Little Spike obviously had different plans for this particular pen. In a quick motion, he snapped the writing utensil at an amazingly accurate angle, causing the ink to shoot in a black geyser-like fashion right onto Gunn's orange shirt.

"Shit!" the large man jumped to his feet, wiping at his shirt and assessing the damage. "You…you little…ANGEL!"

With that, a "snack-sized" William the Bloody dashed out of the room, a "big grab" of a Charles Gunn hot on his heels.

* * *

"Okay, so the milk. It's not milk. It's…what is it again?"

Angel was having problems understanding how the evil milk wasn't really evil milk, but a very non-milky substance.

"The blood of Borna demon, Cakes," Lorne smiled, relaxing in his chair.

"Right…" Cordelia trailed. "And you had the blood of a Borna demon in Angel's refrigerator…why?"

"A friend needed to take a few years off. It takes effort to stay beautiful, you know," the green demon smoothed out his red sports coat. "Blood needs to be kept cool to stay good. You know that as well as anyone. Therefore…refrigerator."

"Why does it look like milk?" Angel wondered aloud.

"Why is my heart in my ass?" Lorne replied promptly.

"Point taken."

"Borna…" Wesley looked to the ceiling thoughtfully. "Borna is the Persian name for-"

"Youthful," Fred cut him off. "Wow…how obvious is that."

At that, Spike burst into the room and ran straight to Angel, hiding behind the larger vampire's legs. Gunn zoomed in a moment later, his hands outstretched to strangle the little bloodsucker.

"I'm going to kill him. Get me a child-sized stake; I'll run it straight through the little brat."

Spike climbed up Angel's legs and leeched to his back like a baby monkey.

"Sire won't let you," he sing-songed, sticking his tongue out at the infuriated man for good measure.

"What's going on?" Angel asked, confused.

"What happened to your shirt?" Wesley asked, noticing the splash of black marring Gunn's shirt with distaste. "It's not very aesthetically pleasing, is it?"

"THAT happened to my shirt," Gunn growled, pointing an angry finger at Spike.

Angel, fighting the urge to smile, knelt and gently shook Spike from his back. Before the little vampire could dash away, he was encompassed in his sire's strong arms.

"What'd you do?" Angel asked.

"Had fun," Spike said, sounding particularly childish. "Black fancies him. Looks a lot better. Orange is too bright."

"You gonna apologize?"

Little Spike snorted. "'Course not."

Lorne, Wesley, Fred, and Cordelia scoffed loudly. Angel tried to keep the smirk off of his face.

"I think you should."

"'Course you do," Spike grinned, butting Angel's chin with his head. "You're all nice. That's why I call you things like Nancyboy and Peaches and Poof."

"Kid's got a point," Gunn nodded. "If I were English, I'd do the same."

"Gunn!" Angel hissed. "Don't encourage him."

"I'm in the triple digits," Spike pointed out. "I don't need to be encouraged."

"Fine…then just don't."

"Don't what?"

"Call me those names."

"Call you what names? Nancyboy?"

"YES."

"Poof?"

"YES."

"Peaches?"

"YES."

"Okay, Peaches."

"Spike…"

"Whatever you say, Nancyboy."

"WILLIAM!"

Little vamps just don't know when to stop. "Yes, Poof?"

* * *

"So how do we cure him?" Wesley asked.

"Do I have to rip out the heart of a Borna demon and feed it to him?" Angel asked, reminiscing on past Sunnydale exploits. "Because I can do that."

Lorne shrugged. "I don't know, sweet cheeks. That one's gonna take some research."

"Can I come out yet?" Spike yelled from the corner.

"NO," Angel growled. "Keep your little undead butt in the chair."

"Wanker…"

"How'd you get him to stay put, anyway?" Gunn asked.

The former Scourge of Europe shrugged his shoulders. "Idle threats go a long way." He looked to his friends and sighed. "Let's get crackin' on that cure."

"Let's get crackin' on your skull!" Spike shouted.

"You just earned yourself 20 more minutes, mister!"

"Bugger all!"

The Big Bad had never felt so small before.

* * *

**TBC…**


	4. Snugglefest

Authors Notes: If only this chapter were funnier…and longer…

I'm in a bad mood and I've been isolating myself. So on with Angel and Little Spike's adventures of fluffy goodness fun. Enjoy!

**Little Bad**

**Chapter Four – Snuggling**

* * *

Spike didn't know how to act. All of his instincts were rooting him on to behave just like the four-year-old he had become, but his mind was screaming in protest at the degradation. He was the Big Bad after all, but he couldn't even fit into his leather duster anymore. It was the size of three of him.

Most of all, he was confused about that Peaches and Cream sire of his. If afraid, his first impulse was to run to Angel. If sad, run to Angel. If angry, scream at Angel. If in need of affection, snuggle with Angel.

His mind went insane when it came to the snuggling. He abhorred the very word: SNUGGLE!

And he knew that a few times, the words "Da" or "Daddy" had slipped from his juvenile mouth while addressing Angel. In those instances, he had bit the inside of his mouth as hard as he could because what was more bloody embarrassing than addressing the biggest soddin' poof ever as "Daddy"?

But in those few instances, his sire's warm brown eyes had always brightened and a brief smile would flutter across his lips. Peaches loved to be needed, and Spike was well aware of this.

Spike did not love needing Peaches.

"Da?"

Mentally cursing himself, the miniature vampire tugged relentlessly on his sire's pant leg and was annoyed to no end when Angel responded by absently ruffling his hair. Angel was sitting at his desk, reading a newspaper and every so often picking up a warm mug of pig's blood.

"Hungry!" Spike demanded, stamping his foot.

Angel gave his childe the briefest of glances before lifting the boy onto his lap and turning his attention back to current events.

Spike sighed and tugged on Angel's shirt.

"I need me blood," he pouted, jabbing his poof of a sire in the ribs.

"What do you say?" Angel attempted.

"NOW."

Spike was becoming very irritated, very fast.

"William…" Angel trailed off warningly. Spike growled. Angel always called him William when he was treading the line. He could either go down two roads at this point: succumb to his sire's will at the great loss of his dignity and the gain of blood; or he could throw a major tantrum, get his blood, and get hauled off to the corner for that ridiculously humiliating punishment known as a "time-out".

Spike didn't much fancy a time-out. They were long and boring and he hated staring at that blank corner because it was pointless and it didn't change anything. He was still the Big Bad and he was even a bigger Big Bad when he was in a time-out because he knew what would happen but he was bad anyway. Or so his four-year-old mentality told him.

"I'm waiting," Angel prodded softly, prying Little Spike away from his thoughts. Spike noted that the older vampire had enveloped his tiny torso with his left arm in a light embrace. He found this comforting. He liked snuggli-

NO. He definitely did not like this snuggle business.

Bloody snuggle-fests…

"Please?" he asked, picturing his larger self raising and shaking a tight pale fist at him. So much for being the Big Bad.

Angel squeezed him closer for a moment before handing him the half-full mug of blood. He smiled as he watched Spike greedily gulp the remaining contents and lovingly wiped the little boy's mouth clean of the blood left behind.

After a few minutes of just sitting there, mini-Spike let out a powerful yawn and rested his head against his sire's chest, fighting the urge to fall asleep.

"Someone need a nap?" Angel whispered after planting a small kiss on the top of his childe's head.

"No," Spike whispered back. "When're you going to cure me?"

"Whenever we find a cure," Angel replied. "You know we're trying."

The Ex-Watcher and bloody Sing Along Songs were trying, Spike knew. Angel was just sitting there, enjoying being needed by his less than self-sufficient childe while reading the newspaper for other cases to distract him from figuring out how to reverse the effects of Borna blood ingestion.

Spike unsuccessfully attempted to stifle another yawn.

"Nap?" Angel suggested again.

Spike shook his head, grasping the fabric of Angel's shirt. "Sleep here."

So maybe it was partially his fault that Poof to the Max insisted on coddling him. So what? Sod off.

* * *

**TBC…possibly with direction of the plot-variety? We'll see!**


	5. Nap Interrupted

**Little Bad**

**Chapter Five – Nap, Interrupted**

* * *

Angel hummed softly to himself, stroking Spike's soft blonde hair, and every so often flipping the pages of the newspaper. The small vampire had been sleeping soundly on his lap for about half an hour.

"Hey, Angel-"

Angel cut Cordelia's loud interruption off with a finger to his lips, nodding to his lap.

"He's napping," he whispered. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to give you an update on the progress of that cure," the young woman said in a softer voice.

Angel waited for her to continue.

…and waited.

…and waited.

Finally, he asked, "And that progress would be?"

The former May Queen's eyes widened as she said, "Oh. There is no progress. That's why I didn't continue with that sentence."

"Clever," the vampire stated dryly. Cordelia knelt by Spike's sleeping form.

"He's oddly adorable right now."

"Won't be once he wakes up. That should be soon."

Angel watched as his young colleague ran a finger over the little boy's cheek with a gentleness he had no idea she possessed. Despite her tenderness, the little vampire's eyes flew open at the change of touch.

"'Lo," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing a small fist over his sleep-filled blue eyes. " 's goin' on?"

"Nothing important," Angel said lightly. "We were just discussing how adorable you are."

"Am not," the sleepy Spike replied indignantly.

"Are too," Cordelia interjected.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

As to prove his point, the little vampire morphed into his gameface – something that he had rarely done since transforming into his miniature state.

"I'll bloody well eat you if you don't stop," he threatened. "I'm cranky. I'll do it." He snarled, bearing his teeth at the somewhat amused, somewhat disconcerted Cordelia.

"You absolutely will not," Angel butted in, grabbing his shrunken child around the middle and lifting him up onto his desk to face him. "We've talked about this. You're not to threaten our friends."

Defiant yellow eyes glared at him in response.

"Human face, William. _Now_." Though he sulked, Spike obeyed. Angel's mean voice was something to be reckoned with…something that Spike would rather not reckon with while cranky and sleepy. "What do you say to Cordy?"

Spike glanced briefly over at the pretty woman, who didn't look angry at all. Angel was angry…or on the verge of it. Bloody hell, seeing the poofter angry would be more entertaining than being obedient.

"Nice tits," Spike grinned.

The two gaped at him, aghast. Cordelia was unsure of how to respond to a four-year-old complimenting her breasts. Angel wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream.

"Inappropriate," Cordelia blurted once she regained her ability to speak. After swallowing back the initial shock, she clarified. "That was inappropriate."

"Very," Angel agreed. "William…"

"Yes, Daddy?"

Now he was just being manipulative and he was extremely aware of it. He watched as his sire's stern look faded away only to be replaced by a small smile and twinkling brown eyes.

"Cordy, I think he's sorry…" Angel said.

"Angel-"

"Just look at those big, apologetic blue eyes-"

"Angel…"

"He's just got a lot of pride. You can't squash a boy's pride. He's in that stage…what's it called? You know the one. Initiative vs. guilt…"

"Angel, what are you even talking about?"

"Erik Erikson, Cordy. The eight stages of human development. I heard Fred and Wesley yammering on about it one day and I thought to myself-"

"Angel, I really don't care-"

"…I thought to myself, I met Erik Erikson once. He was a man who knew what he was talking about. So he must have had a decent idea of what kind of stuff four-year-olds go through. Will is four…and he's just getting in touch with social interaction. If we suppress his open behavior now, he might get all wiggy later. Afraid to say things, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Cordelia agreed, even though she didn't know and never really wanted to know. She just really wanted Angel to shut up. "By the way, have you seen my wallet?"

"It's not in your purse?"

"Nope. I don't know what I did with it. It's been missing all day."

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Thanks."

With that, Cordelia hastily excused herself and left the room, leaving the two vampires alone.

Angel rose from his chair and stretched, popping a few tense spots of his delectable body before heaving his childe into his arms and kissing the boy's forehead.

"You know you shouldn't say those things to girls, right?" he asked. "It's disrespectful."

Spike smirked. "I know, Daddy. I won't do it again. Promise."

_No silly punishment for the Big Bad_, he thought. Nope. Angel was completely wrapped around his little, cold, dead finger.

"That's my good boy," Angel cooed.

_Your good boy_, Spike thought. _Yes. Your good boy that will have plenty of money for booze once he's back to his original size_.

As it were, the little boy wrapped his legs around his sire's torso and his arms around the elder vampire's neck.

As it were, he kissed his protector's cheek in a rare display of childish affection.

"Aren't you sweet?" Angel smiled as he carried his childe out of the office to join his friends.

_Sometimes_, Spike thought as he watched Wesley desperately searching his back pocket for his wallet. _Other times I'm just misunderstood._

* * *

**TBC…**

**Author's Notes: Eh. Not the greatest chapter. Excuse Angel's psychology rant. I had no idea what to say next, so I thought back to my days in life-span developmental psychology class and decided to go from there. I also attempted to make Spike more evil but it seems kind of misplaced or something…even though it seemed like a Spike thing to do. Haha. All in all, this is a bad story. But it really should NOT have been taken down. I miss my 40-something reviews. =( Hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Evil Mastermind

**Little Bad**

**Chapter Six – Evil Mastermind**

* * *

Spike let loose a fiendish giggle, flipping the succulent green bills with his little thumb. Money smelled even better as a child. He would have been embarrassed to admit that he had had to count his accumulation of cash four whole times. When counting, it was hard for him to get past ten. Every time he got to ten, he forgot what came next. Then he'd start over and realize that it was eleven somewhere around five. Bloody four-year-old mind.

He had this desperate urge to throw the green, rectangular pieces of paper into the air and wave his hands about and cheer as they showered back down around him. He'd seen this act recently on the telly and though it seemed like a good idea, he stopped himself from indulging. Peaches would be out of the shower soon enough, and it wouldn't be good to be found out about the missing wallets this early on.

His grandsire always played music while he was the shower. Today, Spike was being forced to listen to Chopin. At the present moment - as he was delightfully thumbing the paper currency – it was _Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor_. It was suspenseful and quiet with grand crescendos that made him feel like a classy evil mastermind. Spike liked that thought…in fact, he liked it so much that he decided he'd like to be an evil mastermind when he grew up.

Er…when he got back to his adult body. Not grew up. He was already an adult. He was just stuck in this ridiculously small body, which came with an increasingly childish mind.

At hearing the shower turn off, he stuffed the collective cash into Wesley's beaten leather wallet, shoved it back into the shoebox he'd uncovered in Angel's closet, and tucked it all safely away beneath Angel's large bed.

"What are you doing, you little monster?"

Spike stifled a scream of terror, and quickly turned around after pasting an innocent grin on his face.

"Playing."

_Yes, that's the way. Act cute and he'll forget his suspicions._

Angel raised an eyebrow.

"Playing…what?"

Spike's eyes widened at the further inquiry and he gnawed on his lower lip so hard that he feared he might draw blood.

"Playing…evil mastermind!"

_Great answer, nitwit_, he mentally berated himself. He waited for Angel to remove him from his spot and look underneath the bed.

…and waited.

…and waited.

…and waited.

Angel chuckled and fondly ruffled his grandchilde's hair. "You'll be a great evil mastermind one day, little one."

"Really?" Spike asked, beaming at the praise.

Angel lifted him from the floor and placed him gently on the bed. "The greatest," he assured, emphasizing each word by tapping Spike's little nose. In a display of juvenile delight, Spike clapped his little hands together.

"Will you be an evil mastermind with me, Sire?" he asked hopefully, though already knowing the answer.

"Well…you know I can't."

"Can we pretend? I'll be a _real_ evil mastermind and you can be a _fairytale_ evil mastermind and together we can cause real and fairytale chaos and all the soddin' children will either cry in distress or bounce about with joy."

Angel, unable to find the sense in that oddly complex sentence, kissed Spike's small forehead.

"Maybe," he murmured noncommittally before gathering Spike back up into his arms. "Whatcha wanna do today?"

"Play evil mastermind," Spike repeated, still not able to get over his ingenuity at the entire 'playing evil mastermind' invention.

Angel smiled. "I'm sure Wes, Fred, and Lorne will love to play evil mastermind with you."

That brought Spike out of his self-congratulation. "Huh?"

"They're babysitting you. Gunn and I have work to do and Cordy's having…Cordy time."

The Littlest Vamp did NOT like the sound of that. "But…but…Wes wears geeky soddin' glasses and Fred goes insane every time she tries to say a word! And Lorne's a green tosser who doesn't know when to stop bloody singin'!"

Angel stopped walking. "I thought you enjoyed their company."

Spike decided it was time to try another tactic.

"I don't need a bleedin' babysitter. I'm a big bad."

"Not a big enough bad," Angel immediately disagreed.

"Am so!" Spike argued. "I'm the biggest bloody bad there ever was!" He wriggled down from Angel's arms and stamped his little foot on the ground. "I don't need any stupid soddin' wankers to babysit me, either." He held out his hands wagging his tiny pale fingers in the air. "There aren't enough of these in this bloody place to count how many I am." He allowed himself another moment of self-congratulation, as that one was also rather clever and advanced considering his current state of mind.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest.

"If I say you need a babysitter, you need a babysitter."

The childish rage boiled over.

"Sod off!" Spike screamed. "I bloody hate you! You're a big Poof with dumb hair and you can't be my fairytale evil mastermind friend anymore!"

With that, Spike tumbled to the ground kicking and screaming into a full-fledged temper tantrum that could easily rival those seen in the first chapter. (This had to be done…)

Angel felt hurt wash over him.

"I have dumb hair?"

Then he was drenched.

"You…you hate me?"

Eventually, he swallowed it back and waited for his miniature William to wear himself out.

* * *

"20 minutes of time out," Spike heard Angel tell Wesley. "I'll forewarn you that he's having one of his more difficult days. Just try to keep him occupied and happy and if he wants something, give it to him…unless it's something bad. Then that would probably be a bad idea."

"I'd say so," Wesley muttered. "Anything else?"

"If he gets too hard to handle, put him down for his nap early. He'll hate that. It'll be great. Just call me if it gets out of hand." He heard Angel shuffle towards the door. "Oh, and he has this new thing he likes to play."

"What's that, Muffin?" Lorne asked.

"Evil mastermind." Spike could just imagine the fond smile fleeting over Angel's face. "Cute little fella, my Will is."

"Just like his Daddy," Lorne agreed.

"Be good, Will!" Angel called. Spike heard the door shut.

"I wouldn't say that," Wesley said to Lorne.

"Say what?"

"You said 'Just like his Daddy'. I wouldn't say that Angel's an evil mastermind. I wouldn't even say that Angel has the potential of being an evil mastermind. Not even Angelus-"

"Hold the phone there, sweetheart," Lorne interrupted. "I assure you I was referring to the 'cute little fella' remark."

"Oh." Wesley was quiet for a moment. "Well, yes…I suppose I could see that."

"Even though Angel's quite big," Fred interjected as she entered the room. "A big, handsome man."

"Too true, Freddikins," Lorne assented. "Too true."

Spike felt like heaving.

"Has it been twenty minutes, yet?" Fred asked. "Poor little guy."

"It hasn't even been five." Wesley replied.

"Well, my little lemon drops, let's break the rules, then," Lorne said decisively. "Override Angelcakes. Take over the throne. It'll make for a more pleasant evening. What say you?"

"Here, here!" Fred agreed, smiling brightly.

"Are you suggesting we simply disregard Angel's authority?" Wesley asked, aghast. He considered it a moment. "Well…alright then!"

They turned, to stare at the little boy's waiting back.

"C'mon, my little caged dove!" Lorne called over. "We're breaking you out of this joint."

* * *

Spike decided that he liked being babysat by this particular trio. It was much more fun than Angel's constant coddling/scolding routine.

"Wes, inform the troops…we have a situation on our hands!" Lorne barked. "It's time to take down all the small-town shops so our gargantuan corporation can rule the world."

"Evil masterminds have troops?" Fred asked. "Don't we just have lawyers and things? Like a contract with the devil?"

"What are we? Wolfram and Hart?" Lorne asked, disgusted. "Puh-leez."

"I don't think we should have troops, Lorne," Wesley said. "I don't think troops are a good influence on Sp-"

"Hush, Pumpkin!" Lorne hissed, putting a green finger to his friend's lips. "You can't use the name of his Great Evilness in vain."

"Oh for God's sake," Wesley muttered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Monsieur Mastermind, do you think troops to be a good idea?"

Spike shook his little head. "No. Troops are a bad idea."

"Then how do we demolish the hard-working lives of the working class?" Fred asked in all seriousness.

"Don't we need to enlist the help of inner-city gangs and high-class assassins?" Wesley asked. "Isn't that the claim to fame for evil masterminds?"

"I still think it all has to do with giant corporations," Lorne disagreed. "Like Wal-Mart."

"You're all wrong," Spike pouted. "Stop having ideas. None of you wankers have any right to free thinking."

"Yes, Your Most Magnificent Evilness," Wesley, Lorne, and Fred droned in unison.

"This is what we do," Spike began with an authoritative air, pacing about in front of the line of adults. "We go into their ridiculously small and impoverished houses. Then we steal what little they have. And THEN…" he trailed off, looking at each of his evil mastermind-worshipping minions in the eye. "You wankers leave and I drain them all dry." Silence. "What say you, minions? Speak up!"

"Erm…Your Most Eminent Being of Malicious Intent, I'm afraid I must question your-"

Before Wesley could speak anymore, Spike unleashed the toy handgun Fred had managed to find and pulled the trigger.

"Bang bang!" the boy declared. Wesley immediately clutched his make-believe wound and fell to the ground in a valiant attempt at a dramatic death.

Spike favored Fred and Lorne with an inquiring look. "Would either of YOU like to question the plan?" Both shook their heads vigorously. "That's what I thought. Now watch and laugh as I look down upon his corpse and smile." Spike walked over to Wesley's still body and, looking down at his face, grinned lopsidedly. "Hiya, Wes."

Wesley's eyes popped open. "Hello, Spike."

They waited a beat. Nothing.

Spike sighed, and looked at his remaining minions. "You're not _laughing_!"

"Ha!" Fred weakly attempted as Lorne gave a heartfelt chuckle.

"So…is this the end of evil mastermind?" Wesley asked. Spike nodded glumly.

"What do you wanna do now?"

"I'd take us out to get ice cream…" Lorne said.

Spike's face lit up…

"…But I seem to have misplaced my wallet."

…and then dimmed considerably.

"There seems to be a lot of that going around," Wesley nodded. "Perhaps a demon came…an evil, wallet-snatching demon. Or maybe it was one of the clients."

"That's awful," Fred said. "That someone would just take money like that. Without even asking first…"

Spike attempted to sidle inconspicuously out of the room.

"Hold it right there, Cakes Jr.!" Lorne shouted suddenly. "I know just what you're trying to do."

Spike felt an ice cube drop to the bottom of his stomach as he froze mid step.

"You're not getting out of naptime that easily, honeybun."

Bloody Hell, these people really were daft.

* * *

Spike awoke as a cold hand ran through his baby soft hair.

"Da?"

"Mmm?"

"You're back."

"I am."

The little vampire edged closer and rested his small head in his grandsire's lap.

"Don't hate you."

Angel's hand stopped stroking for a moment.

"I'm glad."

"I really don't, you know," Spike told him, closing his blue eyes as Angel continued. "I love you even if you do have really dumb hair."

* * *

**TBC…**


	7. A Very Harry Interlude

**A/N**: This goes nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. I just felt like writing something that involved Harry Potter and this came out. More direction in next chapter, hopefully; but for now, enjoy the short and sweet stylings of…this. Little Bad 

****

**Little Bad**

**Chapter Seven – A Very Harry Interlude**

* * *

_There was a silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard._

_"I'm a what?" gasped Harry._

"I can bloody well read, you know," the irate child vampire grumbled from his perch on his grandsire's lap, glaring at the Harry Potter book spread out before them. "Don't need you to read me soddin' children's stories about boy wizards and their reckless heroics."

"You can read?" Angel was surprised.

"Yes, I can bloody well read. Or did you think that I've just got the most extensive vocabulary ever possessed by a four-year-old?"

"Well…you have problems counting sometimes."

"Don't mean a soddin' thing."

"Well, in that case, just so we're on equal ground, you can read me the next paragraph."

"Fine." Spike cleared his throat and looked nervously down at the black and white letters. " 'A wiz-wiz…'"

"Wizard," Angel supplied.

"I had it, Peaches. Stop stealing my thunder."

Angel held up his hands in surrender.

"'A wizard," Spike declared. "O…o…"

"O'course," Angel interjected.

Spike had had enough. He threw the hardback leather-bound collector's edition of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone _against the wall, retracting all of his grown-up words with a large wail of distress.

"Will, we don't throw Wesley's special Harry Potter book against the wall. It cost a lot of money," Angel gently scolded the now screaming child, pondering why Wesley had such an expensive edition of the first Harry Potter novel in the first place. "Stop screaming, little one. There are worse things in the world than not being able to read."

That only made Spike scream louder.

"Holy mother of God!" Cordy yelled, marching into the office. "Shut the little bloodsucker up before _I_ shut him up."

And louder still.

"Will, please…" Angel pleaded. "You want some blood? I'll get you some blood."

It was like an unending vocalization of long-promised torture.

"Why is Wes's $75 Harry Potter book on the floor?" Cordy asked.

Unfortunately, the dead don't have to breathe.

"He threw it."

And that was only the beginning.

"Figures," the former May Queen rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be threatening him with something by now?"

Threats were long roads that ended with more screams.

"He'll tire himself out eventually," Angel replied, wincing as the pitch was raised a step.

"Good Lord, Angel," Wesley said, stepping inside the office. "Stop this insanity this instant…why on EARTH is my $75 leather-bound collector's edition of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone _on the floor?"

"It's a long story, Wes…" Angel answered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Spike threw it," Cordy told him.

"…that can be summed up in three syllables," the elder vampire finished lamely. "He got frustrated while I was trying to read to him and-"

"He threw it," Cordy repeated.

"Will, stop screaming for Sire," Angel attempted to console his grandchilde. "Good little boys don't scream when things don't go their way."

Will wasn't a good little boy.

"He's not a good little boy, Angel," Wesley told the vampire with a sigh. "He's Spike in a diminutive form."

Too true.

"He can be a good little boy," Angel snapped defensively.

"Yeah, he can be a real sweetie," Cordy agreed. Followed immediately by, "When he's _asleep_."

"He can be quite charming at times," Wesley admitted. "But you have to stop this-" he motioned to the gaping mouth of the caterwauling mini-vamp, "-NOW."

Angel sighed. "Fine. William, stop screaming."

Good little Williams always finish what they start.

"Angel!" Cordelia and Wesley rebuked in unison.

Angel growled, his eyes flashing gold with irritation. "Stop. Screaming. Right. Now."

It stopped immediately, and large blue eyes accompanied by a cheeky grin glanced upward at him. "That felt good."

* * *

**_Later that day…_**

"Siiiire," Little Spike drew out the word, tugging on Angel's pantleg.

"Hmm?"

"What's scatology?"

"What's…what?"

"Scatology. Fred was talkin' 'bout scatology while Wes was lookin' at some sorta demon goo."

"Oh, well…"

"You do know, don't you?"

Of course he knew.

"Erm…no," Angel lied. "I have no idea. Ask Wesley."

"He's busy and you're lying. Is it okay to lie?"

"Of course not," Angel replied quickly, determined to be the best influence possible while Spike was in such an impressionable state.

"Then why'd you do it?"

"I didn't," Angel lied again, bending down and lifting the little vamp into his arms. "Why are you so interested in this scatology business?"

"Jus' a little curious, I s'pose."

"Curiosity killed the cat," Angel murmured.

"Yeah. Lots of 'em," Spike agreed.

It took a moment for that to sink it, and when it did, Angel chose to ignore it.

"You have froofy hair."

Angel chose to ignore that, too.

"And sometimes, when you sleep, you moan and say things Lorne says I'm not s'posed to hear at such a tender young age. You're a right dirty one, you are."

"I'm, uh…_what_?"

"A wizard, o'course."

* * *

**TBC…**


	8. Like Clockwork

* * *

A/N: This is the last chapter. 

**Little Bad**

**_Chapter Eight – Like Clockwork_**

* * *

Spike hummed happily to himself, greedily shoveling buttery, salty popcorn in his mouth as he watched the best movie ever created: _A Clockwork Orange_. Stanley Kubrick certainly was a genius; especially with the bit where Little Alex crushed the prissy cat-lady with the futuristic penis-shaped piece of art.

Yes, it was all about the moloko and the ultra-violence and the old in-out, in-out in Anthony Burgess's satirical interpretation of the future. The fact that the interpretation had been more than a bit off filled the little vampire with childish disappointment – kind of like finding out that Santa Clause wasn't real, or the person shoving money under his pillow for his fabricated, makeshift lost tooth was really his overly-domesticated sire (who, by the way, was really in dire need of a manlier pair of knackers).

"What're you watching?" Angel asked, sitting down beside his snack-sized childe and popping a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

"A Clockwork Orange," Spike replied through a mouthful, scooting closer to the elder vamp.

Angel's eyes widened as he watched a man fill a glass of milk from a statue of a naked woman.

"Should you really be-?"

"Yes," Spike quickly cut him off, then catching his sire's glare, widened his eyes in an attempt at innocence. "Lorne put it in for me."

Angel managed very well until he "viddied" a young Malcolm McDowell bending over to be given an anal examination. At this, he sprung to his feet, hit stop, and yelled for Lorne.

"'ey!" Spike protested.

"Absolutely not."

"But it's my birthday!"

"It's not your birthday and you're not watching something that glorifies violence and…and rape…and…"

"Beethoven?" Spike interjected hotly.

"Well, I do like Beethoven," Angel said more to himself than to Spike. Then, "But that's not the point."

"Just cause I'm a little small, don't mean I'm bloody stupid," the vampire child stated miserably. His sire would do well to remember that he was the bringer of much ultra-violence and rape and Beethoven…okay, maybe not Beethoven, but still. He wasn't exactly naïve to the ways of the world.

"I know you're not-"

"You don't know." The quavering tone of voice Spike used effectively silenced his sire and Angel, at a loss for words, slumped down next to his miniature childe with a sigh. "You just…you bloody think…I'm not a lil' kid, Angelus."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not," Spike hissed. "You really wanna think that I am, Sire. You really want me to crawl into your lap and cry in your chest and call you 'Daddy' forever, but I can't do that."

"I don't-"

"_Yes, you do!_" the little vampire snarled, throwing popcorn bowl against the wall. "You wanna think that I'm gonna be this helpless little boy forever and that I'm going to grow up with you watchin' and it's not gonna soddin' happen." His blue eyes filled with big tears. "I can't grow up anymore. I'm _dead_."

Sadness. He felt complete and utter despair and in times of despair, Spike did what he always did.

He crawled into Angel's lap and cried in his sire's broad chest and sobbed out "Daddy" like a broken record.

* * *

"We really need to find the cure."

Wesley, Fred, Lorne, Cordelia, and Gunn turned surprised eyes to where Angel was leaning against the doorframe.

"Huh? I thought you liked Spike all little," Cordelia said.

"I do…but it's not right. We haven't been focusing on the problem because having him like this became normality. And as pleasant and adorable as he is like this, it's killing him."

"It's killing him?" Fred asked, alarmed.

Angel sighed. "Not literally."

"What's with the sudden change of heart, big fella?" Lorne asked gently. "Something happen?"

Angel shook his head. "It's just…he keeps trying to be himself. Talking the big talk, like he's the Big Bad. He can't do it. It's too hard for him. He can't count. He can't read. He's helpless. And I'm not making it any better."

"Angel," Wesley said softly, resting a hand on his undead friend's shoulder. "You're doing all that you can…"

"Yeah, and that's the problem. I'm smothering him with unnecessary parental affection and it's making it all the harder for him." He sighed and ran a hand through his gelled hair. "I'm being selfish."

Wesley shot the vampire and sympathetic look and nodded. "We'll find the cure as soon as possible."

Angel nodded, giving his friends a small, sad smile. "Thanks."

* * *

**_Three Days Later…_**

Spike awoke from his nap and was unsurprised to find Angel slumbering next to him. Peaches was usually there when he woke up, although he normally wasn't sleeping.

Spike, bleary-eyed, sighed and reached out a hand to touch his sire's face.

"S'okay, Will."

Spike started and retracted his hand immediately, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the trickle of drool that escaped from Angel's mouth. The old poof was talking in his sleep!

"Everythin's gonna be alright, sweetling."

Tears emerged from Angel's closed eyes and the younger vampire felt his throat constrict.

"Daddy's here."

Bloody Hell.

Spike straddled Angel's stomach and roughly shook the older vampire, but to avail.

"Wake up, you bleedin' poofter!" he yelled, grabbing at the slick sides of Angel's face where the tears ran like a river. "You're dreamin' like the ponce y'are! Wake up!" Angel's eyes flew open, but Spike didn't see. "Dadddyyyy…"

"Spike, you're too heavy for this now," Angel grunted, gently shoving the blond off of his stomach.

"What're you talkin' about, Da?"

His voice…it was…deeper?

"You're back to normal," Angel told him calmly.

"Wha!?" His adult hands shot out quickly and he examined them, mouth gaping wide open in shock. "I'm…I'm big!"

"You're big," Angel agreed.

Spike couldn't contain his huge smile as he bounced up and down on his knees on Angel's mattress.

"I'm big! I'm big! I'm big!"

"You're big," Angel repeated, more softly. Spike didn't hear.

"I'm big. I'm big. Oh yeah. I'm the big bad," the now five-foot ten-inch vampire joyously sang to himself. Then, in a flash of gaiety, he launched himself at his sire, falling gracelessly on top of the older vampire in a messy embrace. "Daddy, I'm bloody HUGE!"

Angel was silent.

Spike, suddenly realizing that being returned to his larger state meant affection towards Angel was a no no, sat up and cleared his throat. "I meant…it's about time, you soddin' wanker. What took you so long anyway?"

"Don't know," Angel replied quietly.

"Well, how'd you do it?"

"Wesley concocted some sort of antidote somehow. We put it in your afternoon blood. I don't know exactly how, but it worked."

"It bloody well did!" The blond vampire leapt off of the bed and bounced from foot to foot. "Well, c'mon then, Sire. Let's go celebrate. We'll have a couple of beers and sing a few songs with Lorne. Well…_I'll_ sing a few songs with Lorne. You…you're not exactly a diva, y'know-"

"You're too young to drink," Angel mumbled, turning away from his childe to stare at the wall.

Spike groaned. "C'mon, Peaches, don't be like that…" Angel was silent. "I know you miss the little me. I know I was quite the charmer…who can resist this, after all?" Angel grumbled something incoherent. "Well, fine then. I'm going down to see your mates and you can come whenever you're finished wallowing in self-pity."

The blond fell to his knees and began to rummage under the bed, intent on returning the stolen wallets. Wes had done one for him; he should do one for Wes in return. It was only proper.

"What are you doing under the bed?" Angel grumbled, rolling back over and peering down at his childe. "You're always under the damn bed…"

Spike looked back up, shoving the shoebox out of eyesight on instinct.

"Nothin'."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "You little liar."

"Playing evil mastermind?" Spike asked hopefully.

Angel groaned, shoved Spike none-too-gently away, and pulled out the shoebox.

"I was about to return it," the younger vampire said quickly. "You can't blame me! I was driven by the primal desires of a four-year-old mentality."

Angel, shuffling through the shoebox, growled. "How did I not know it was you…?"

"Well, Peaches, you've always been a right daft one when it comes to me. Especially little me…"

"I was so sure you were the sweetest thing in the world…"

"You really were wrong, y'know…"

"Blinded by fatherly affections just to have my innards torn out and burned to ash…"

"Love'll do that to ya."

Spike was greatly surprised when the shoebox was thrown at him, accompanied by an angry snarl from his none-too-happy sire.

"Return them. Now."

"I was really planning on-"

"NOW."

Three warning growls and a hurt whimper later, Spike ran out of the room to leave his sire all on his oddy knocky.

* * *

"I figured it was you," Cordelia huffed, stuffing her portion of the cash back into her wallet. "But nooo…no one listens to Cordy…"

"Oh, hush, Cordelia. You never even suggested it," Wesley chided, primly folding his paper currency into a nice little square and gracefully depositing it into his wallet. "I had my suspicions that it was the little ruffian, but I kept them to myself as I had no real evidence and-"

"How are you feeling, anyway, little…big…Spike?" Lorne asked the blond vampire, who was keeping his blue eyes to the ground. "No bad side-effects to the antidote I hope?"

"Nah, I reckon I'm a hundred percent," Spike offered the demon a smirk. "Back to my big bad self, at any rate. And my body is just as I remember it: hot, tight, and little."

"You got that right," Cordelia murmured, giving Spike an appreciative once over. Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. "What? You were the one that said it…I was just a agreeing…and I still think you're disgusting."

"Right," Spike snorted. "Whatever you say, pet."

Gunn, who hadn't said a word since being handed back his wallet, decided it was the perfect moment to punch the blond in the face.

"'Ey!"

"That was for my shirt."

"Oh, right," Spike grinned at the memory. "That WAS brilliant of me."

Fred looked to be on the verge of tears. "You were such a cute little boy," she said sadly. The, much to the vampire's surprise, she threw her little arms around his waist. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'm not exactly going anywhere, Ducks," Spike said, awkwardly patting the girl's back. "I'm gonna be right here, y'know? Just not quite so little anymore."

"That may be true," Wesley sighed. "But Angel…"

"Yeah, poor Angel," Cordelia agreed.

"Poor Angel," Gunn, Fred, and Lorne chorused.

"Yeah," Spike quietly assented. "Poor Angel."

* * *

**_Later that evening…_**

Poor Angel sat at his desk, sipping at a mug filled with warm blood and reading the newspapers. Bad things were happening. Bad things always happened. He hated the news. Change was becoming less and less of a good thing recently…

Like earlier when he awoke to a full-grown Spike straddling his stomach as opposed to a little boy. That was a bad change. Something was tugging at his pantleg. Had it been the previous day, that something would be his little Will wanting to share in his mug of blood. Now it could be God knows what wanting…God knows what.

Sighing, he glanced down.

"Heya," Spike greeted him softly. The younger vampire was sitting cross-legged at his sire's feet, looking decidedly sullen.

"Hi," Angel returned, equally as soft. He was surprised when the peroxide blond head nestled against his thigh. "How has your day been?"

"Sorta good, sorta bad." His childe nestled in further as Angel absentmindedly started toying with his hair. "I like being big."

"Good."

"Don't like you being pissy with me, though."

Angel sighed. "Why not, Spike? I'm just a soddin' Nancyboy with froofy hair, right?" The elder vampire was caught off guard when his childe clambered onto his lap. "What're you doing?" His jaw dropped in bewilderment when Spike answered by kissing his cheek.

"Of course you're a soddin' Nancyboy with froofy hair, but…" Spike hesitated, feeling the shred of his dignity falling away.

"But…?" Angel prompted.

"You're me Sire, and I love you even if you do have froofy hair," he mumbled, grabbing at one of Angel's arms and securing it around his torso. He readjusted himself so that his head was resting against his sire's shoulder. "I can't help it, you see. It's part of the package. Like this snuggling thing…no one can know about this."

Angel snorted, setting down his mug and wrapping his other arm around Spike.

"What's with the snort, Peaches?"

Angel kissed the top of the bleached head. "Don't worry your little head about it, Will."

* * *

**_From The Outside Looking On In…_**

"You got that?" Cordy asked. "Oh! Spike's nuzzling Angel's neck. Get a shot of that."

"You're a sick, sick girl," Wesley tsked. "How does Spike NOT see us?"

"He's too busy getting it on with Angel," Gunn scoffed, and then made an indignant noise when Fred hit him.

"You're perverting an awfully sweet father/son moment," the Texan scolded.

"The big fella and the little fella reunited," Lorne said, a wistful smile on his green face. "It's times like these when you forget that this was all my fault in the first place."

Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia, and Fred took a moment for that to register. Then, in unison, shrugged.

"Got enough pictures?" Cordelia asked, as Wesley took one more.

"An entire roll."

"Maybe if we email them to the guys who run the Demons Demons Demons search engine, we can get some decent payback for the wallet stealing."

"You know, Cordelia, that's not a half bad idea…"

And they all lived happily ever after.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
